


Homemade Sex Pollen

by scandalous



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex Pollen, house being subby but in his typical snarky manner, v light degradation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: A patient gives House some homemade cookies as a gift. Surprisingly enough, they're not poisoned.





	Homemade Sex Pollen

**Author's Note:**

> kinktober fill, my boyfriend asked for aphrodisiacs + house/foreman and i was more than happy to provide! also fills the free kink square in my seasonofkink card, which i used for "altered mental states".
> 
> enjoy!

After they finish with their latest patient, House and his ducklings get a gift.

House doesn’t think too much of it — it’s some cookies that smell sickly sweet, probably too much chocolate. It’s from the patient, who he pressed and pressed until he admitted to having cheated on his girlfriend while overseas. The guy wasn’t exactly happy with him, but he’d helped in his recovery, which now meant a gift in the form of cookies.

Chase turns up his nose when House comes in with the white paper bag. “What’s that?”   
  
“Patient’s gift,” he explains, putting it down on the table. “It’s four cookies. Chocolate chip, who doesn’t like those?” Chase keeps staring at the bag, and then at House— Cameron seems to have about the same reaction.

“Don’t you think it’s a little off?” Chase asks. “The patient was quite mad at you when he left. You sure this isn’t a like, attempt at poisoning?”   


“Oh c’mon, you and your ‘don’t trust anyone’ spiel,” House exclaims, taking a cookie out of the bag. “Daddy beat you too much, now you don’t trust in people’s good intentions? Eat a cookie, Chase.”   


“No,” Chase replies, getting up. “If you get poisoned, that’s not my fault, warned you.” He leaves the room.

Cameron’s brows furrow. “Can’t you just tell the patient chocolate chip cookies aren’t much of your thing?”   
  
“If this was an attempt at poisoning, he’d just send me another kind of food. Now get out.” Cameron reluctantly obeys. Meanwhile, Foreman is already reaching for the bag. “You trying to show you’re not a pussy to me or?”   
  
“I’m hungry,” Foreman replies curtly before taking a bite. House does too, and then eats the whole of it. He licks the crumbs off his fingers and then starts feeling weird.

He hasn’t missed the tension growing in between him and Foreman — of course he hasn’t. But the tension is more than just them quickly snapping at each other, no. He yells and he finds Foreman’s gaze drifting all over his body— he yells and he finds himself wishing to slam Foreman against a wall instead of getting to punch him.

And now, he has a set feeling in his stomach. It’s off, it’s weird, and he knows what it is, but there’s no obvious trigger for it. Arousal, his mind provides— everything’s a little hazy around the edges, and suddenly he realizes the trigger for his arousal. The cookie he just ate.

Foreman seems in a similar state — brows raised, eyes blown wide, a tent forming in his pants. House immediately pulls him closer, glances into his eyes, pools of chocolate the same as the chips of the cookies that got him in such a state. 

“The patient did try to poison you, huh?” Foreman asks lowly.

“I think he tried to make me get some rather than poison me.” 

Foreman quips, “Get on with getting some, then.”   


House does so, and immediately grabs Foreman’s ass. Foreman makes a noise of surprise, almost a yelp, and before either of them know it he’s grabbing House by his collar into a messy kiss. He kisses back and grinds up into Foreman’s crotch, hungry and messy, and he loves it way more than he should.

House pulls his pants down and does the same with Foreman’s. They’re both achingly hard already, and he pulls his boxers down and starts rutting up against Foreman’s clothed cock.

“Desperate,” Foreman breathes, digging his fingers into House’s clothed shoulder, pulling his boxers down so their cocks can rub together. He moans softly, pulls House into another kiss. “Needy. Fucking— what did those cookies even have?”   


“Some experimental sex drug,” House breathes, leaning into another kiss, hips rutting upwards, pre-cum making it easier. “Unless you believe in the s-supernatural, I’d think it’s something like that.”   
  
“Something happened which you’re happy about,” Foreman teases, pulling House closer, digging his fingers into his ass cheeks, spreading them just a little. “I wish I had— I wish I had lube, you’d look so good spread out on my cock…”

“I’m not a bottom,” he says, but he can’t help but grind up his cock against Foreman’s needily at the idea. 

“Your hips say otherwise.”   
  
“Stop talking back or I’ll reconsider sucking you off.”   


Foreman groans and kisses him, messy and hungry. “This thing really messed with your filter, huh?”   
  
House moans softly and wraps his hand around both their cocks, pre-cum glistening it white. “Maybe it fucking did— now lemme cum.”   
  
“You’re asking me for permission?” he says, smiling smugly, pulling him closer so they’re chest-to-chest. House is still looming over him, taller and threatening, but not when his face is twisted in arousal and raw need.  “This sex drug really has you fucked up, doesn’t it?”

“I think I kinda like it,” House replies, wrapping an arm around Foreman’s waist. “We’re both a goddamn mess— horny as fuck, and I think it’s better than any sex I’ve had in the last five years.”   


“All of that sex was from hookers, what’d you expect?”   
  
House pinches his ass. “Shut up.”   
  
“Nope,” he replies, pulling away and jerking House off slowly. “You asked me for permission to cum. C’mon.”   
  
“You asshole,” House breathes, hips bucking up into Foreman’s cock. “Lemme cum.”   
  
“Ask.”   
  
“Foreman;” he groans, tilting his head back.

“Not a question.”   
  
“Motherfucker—”   
  
Foreman stops jerking him off, and House whimpers and stills his hips; takes a deep breath. “Please.”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Please!” House breathes. “Please, can I please cum?”   
  
“Go for it,” Foreman replies, jerking him off— he doesn’t take long to cum all over Foreman’s hand, breathing nonsense and curses, to then collapse into Foreman’s grip on him.

“C’mon, suck me off.”   


House doesn’t even muster a smartass reply— he drops to his knees, grimacing a little, and then takes Foreman’s cock in his mouth, sucking on the head needily, eyes fluttering shut.

“I like how much of a whore you are under a sex drug,” Foreman says like he’s talking about the weather, and House moans around his cock. “You’re such a slut. I bet you would’ve done this even if it wasn’t me — if it wasn’t me the one who had eaten one of ‘em, too.” He moans when House takes more of him in his mouth, bobbing his head slowly. “Speed up.”   
  
House looks up at him, almost challenging. In lieu of ordering him again, Foreman pushes him farther down his cock, him choking a little. He starts sucking him off more eagerly, bobbing his head farther.

“Oh that’s — fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, and he doesn’t take long to cum down House’s throat, breathing curses.

The effect fades, and they kiss hungrily before pulling their pants back up. 

As soon as they walk out of the differentials room, there’s the snap of a picture being taken. House turns to see Chase with his phone out.

“Chase—”   
  
“Were you aware of how loud you were being?” Chase asks with a shit-eating grin. “You look fucked out.”   


Foreman flips Chase off and heads to the bathroom. House rolls his eyes, shoves Chase away and goes to the elevator — he knows Wilson will get a kick out of this.  


End file.
